


Twenty Nine

by Venstar



Series: Meaningless Scars [29]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Permanent Injury, possibly, q reacts, r reacts, touchy subjects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15513504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar
Summary: from the anon prompt: Bond's latest mission ends in disaster and he comes back with a permanent disability. Up to the writer what that is, but it forces him into retirement. How does Q cope?





	Twenty Nine

It could have been worse, it could have been worse, it could have been worse, it could have been worse...Q pauses to inhale...it could have been worse, it could have been worse, it could have been worth. He stops as he almost runs smack into the bank of elevators. It could have been death. He punches the up button with his finger hard over and over and over again. It could have been death. But it wasn’t. Q continues to breath as his finger continues to jab at the up button. He needed out. Bond was coming home. Injured. More than injured. A life changing injury. A career changing injury. A permanent injury. If only Q had been better, faster, smarter, he could have...he could have...

“Q!”

He doesn’t really notice someone’s calling his name, he’s just determined to get out. Get to the surface and...panic, run, cry...something. “Q!” Someone has grabbed hold of his shoulder and given him a good shake. “Q!” R’s voice bellows in his ear.

He jerks at the sound of her voice. It’s loud and it’s real. Suddenly her sharp face and her bright orange hair are right in front of him, forcing him back to reality. “Jesus Christ man, if I believed in him, I’d ask him where the hell do you think you’re going.” R said making absolutely no sense.

Q’s breathing came in short pants. “Up.”

“Well hell is down, so I don’t know why you’d be going up.” R said, she pulled on him until she slung his lanky frame around.

“What?” Q asked, confused. “R, stop pulling on me.”

“No.” R leaned forward and continued to pull, dragging a stubborn dead weight, also digging his feet in.

“Stop it.” Q tried to go limp, to slow her progress down.

“No.” She just adjusted her grip on him and fire carried him towards Q branch.

“What is wrong with you?” Q finally snagged a pole and managed to finally halt her determined progress.

“Me? What is wrong with me?” R asks incredulously, she points her finger at herself. “What’s wrong with you! We get news that Bond’s finally stable enough to transport and you go hareing off BEFORE you arranged his transport. Are you insane? You know if he finds out that if anyone else but you dared arrange his transport, he’d murder us in his sleep. I don’t care if he only has one leg left, he’d murder us with his good leg. No, he’d beat us with his prosthetic and then he’d murder us with his good leg. Have you ever been choked out by Bond’s legs? I’ve seen it once, it’s not a pretty way to go. I mean, unless you think he’s pretty.”

Q is sure he made a squawking noise.

R waved her hand around, dismissing an idea she had but didn’t quite like. “But like what you two decide to do in the privacy of your own bedroom is between the two of you, I mean, unless you’d like to share. Is he really that kinky of a bastard? Have you let him choke you yet?”

Q is sure he made more squawking noises and flapped his hands around in front of his face. “Stop. I don’t want you imagining either of us in one of your sick and twisted scenarios. You don’t even like sex.”

R tilted her head to the side. “That’s partly true. I prefer it when it happens to other people. You could let me watch next time. I can bring popcorn and I make a mean cup of tea. Gotta keep the old man’s stamina up.” R poked Q in the ribs. “Make sure he can keep up with daddy long legs over here.”

“Oh my god no. Stop talking now.” Q wrapped his hands around R’s mouth. She licked him. “Ew!” He pulled his hands away and wiped them on her cheek. 

“Get in here, stop being a chicken and make his transpo arrangements, then you can leave and plump the pillows. Your dirty pillows.” She winked at him.

“Oh my god. I’m going to go make his arrangements now, if it gets you to stop talking like that!”

“You’ll have to tell me how it goes though. I’ve never had sex willingly before, but I’ve also never had sex with an amputee.”

Q spun around on R so fast, she barely had time to duck under his right hook. She came up with a jab of her own and caught him in the solar plexus and walked away as he tried to remind his lungs that air was for breathing. 

“Make his arrangements. Make him happy. Make him feel welcome. Make love to his fake leg. It’s not about you today, big boy.” R said as she glided away back into the depths from which she came. “It’s about our favorite big boy. Take care of him, before you take care of yourself.” She winked back at him over her shoulder. “That might end up taking care of both of you.”

Q shook his head in her direction. Dear God in heaven, when they were handing out fairy godmothers how the fuck did he end up with R as his?


End file.
